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I swallowed hard and pushed through it.

“There was a collision. Not even…a big one, at first. Just wrong place, wrong angle. My car clipped another and—” I shook my head slightly, eyes unfocused. “It all happened so fast after that.”

Nicola’s hand shifted slightly on the cushion between us, like she was resisting the urge to reach out without knowing if I wanted her to.

“I couldn’t get out,” I added, voice barely above a whisper. “My leg was trapped. I didn’t even realize how bad it was at first. I just—” I exhaled shakily. “I remember the heat. And the noise. And thinking…This is it.”

The words hung in the air between us, and Nicola’s breath caught softly.

“I was in the car for too long,” I continued. “By the time they got me out…my leg was shattered. I had taken off a glove to try and pull myself out with a better grip, which left these.” I ran fingers over my left hand, the scars raised there. “It took months before I could even walk again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nicola said softly.

I shrugged, but it felt hollow. “It was ten years ago.”

“That doesn’t make it small,” she replied gently.

My throat tightened. “No,” I admitted. “It doesn’t.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city buzzed faintly outside, a distant hum against the stillness of the room.

Nicola shifted slightly, her voice softer now.

“And Theo? It seems like you guys know each other?”

The name hit like a sudden drop. I let out a breath, eyes closing briefly.

“Yeah,” I said. “Theo.” A small, almost disbelieving smile touched my lips. “We grew up racing together,” I said. “From karting all the way up. He was…” I huffed out a quiet laugh. “He was the worst.”

Nicola snorted softly, “I believe that.”

“He was arrogant, competitive, constantly trying to get under my skin,” I continued, shaking my head. “We fought all the time. On track, off track…”

“But?” Nicola prompted gently.

“But,” I echoed, my voice softening, “he was also…my best friend.”

The words felt strange out loud. Fragile. Like something preserved in time.

“We weren’t supposed to be,” I added. “His dad hated me. Mine wasn’t exactly his biggest fan either. So we just…pretended to hate each other in public.”

Nicola’s brows lifted slightly.

The warmth faded just as quickly.

“He won the championship,” I continued quietly. “After my crash. There were only a few races left and…I was out. So he took it.”

Nicola didn’t interrupt.

“I watched it from a hospital bed,” I added, my voice steady but distant. “On my phone. Under the covers.” A beat passed. “I never saw him after the crash,” I finished.

Nicola’s brows furrowed slightly. “Not even once?”

I shook my head. “No.” Not until yesterday. I didn’t say it out loud; I didn’t need to.

Nicola studied me for a moment longer, then leaned back into the couch with a soft exhale.

“Fuck,” she said finally. “So we hate him?”